Rooftops
by Permanent Rose
Summary: Jane and Maura have been best friends since they were five years old and Jane is most certainly, absolutely not in love with her. Because that would ruin everything, right?
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: So I accidentally started writing this story. It is going to be about three chapters, so just a brief little multi-chapter fic. I am still writing Break My Fall. I have half of the next chapter written. I just needed to write something a little bit less heavy, and I was dying to try something from Jane's POV. _

_Jane and Maura are both about 22 in this story. I think the rest of it really ends up being self-explanatory. I hope you enjoy! :)_

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><p>The best part about living alone is blasting Van Halen at three in the morning and dancing wildly in my underwear. It's just one of the many perks of finally having my own place, along with not having to share a bathroom with my gross brothers, leaving my socks wherever I goddamn please, and freedom from my mother's tyranny.<p>

Well, number three is debatable. She's already been here four times this week, bearing trays of lasagna and the likes, and it's only my first week in my new apartment. That is why, when I hear the familiar shrill of the doorbell, I'm tempted to barricade myself under my bed.

I am less than pleased to take the bag of Oreos off my stomach, leaving my supine position as I roll off the couch. My bare feet stick to the floor as I trudge toward the door. One of my greatest talents is my superb eye rolling skills. I do so now, even though there is no one to witness my masterpiece. "Jesus, Ma, can't a girl have – Maura!"

She stands in the doorway, her cheeks a little flushed. "Surprise!"

"Maura," I say again, this time with the proper affection. She nuzzles herself into my arms. I let out a tiny little sigh as I rest my nose in her hair. "I didn't think your spring break was until next week."

"It's not. My mother's having a dinner party tonight. I figured I'd leave a bit early and pay a visit to your new place." I'm not sure what the length of a proper hug is, but I'm pretty sure we push the limits every time.

I never know how to tell her just how much I've missed her without being sappy, so I just hug her for a bit longer. She finally pulls away, finding my face. "You know, this is the shirt you were wearing when we first met." She wiggles her finger into a hole by my stomach, and my insides turn sloshy as she touches my skin.

I'm embarrassed that I still own my Martinez jersey. In fact, it looks more like a dust rag than a shirt anymore.

"I should probably get rid of it."

"You've been saying that for about ten years now. That statement hardly has any credibility. Besides, it finally fits you."

I met Maura completely by accident.

When I was little, I was always begging Pops to take me along when he had a plumbing job, because when you're five, anything your dad does it the coolest. I got my wish quite unexpectedly, when Ma had a doctor's appointment on account of being pregnant with what would eventually be my brother, Frankie, and my babysitter had called her last minute, sick as a dog.

"You got enough stuff in your bag to keep quiet while I work?" Pops asked me as we pulled into the driveway of the biggest house I'd ever seen.

"But, Pops, I want to help. I can plunge real good. 'Member last week, when I plunged that big old sock?" I looked up at him earnestly. (I still claimed innocence on how that sock had gotten into the toilet in the first place.)

He grumbled something, too quiet for me to hear, but the house now consumed my attention as we went up the way. It had too many windows to count and a balcony supported by four large pillars. It was fancy enough to be a castle.

"Jane!" Pops called to me, as my feet had become planted to the driveway in awe.

I padded up behind him quickly, my filthy jelly sandals slapping against the pavement. I held my large Red Sox cap against my head so it wouldn't flop off.

"You wait out here while I fix this sink, you hear me?" Pops patted the carpet right by the bathroom door.

"But Pops…"

"No buts. I know you want to help, Janie, but this job isn't for little girls."

I glowered, sinking to the floor in a heap of frustration. I dug through my bag that my mother had packed for me. My grimace softened a bit when I pulled out _The Trumpet of the Swan. _I'd made Ma read through it twice to me in just the past few months, chapter upon chapter each night before bed. I couldn't really read many of the words yet, but I still paged through the story, retelling it to myself.

"What are you reading?"

I looked up. Standing in front of me was a tiny little girl, probably just my age. She had sandy blonde curls tied back into a barrette with a big white bow fastened to it. Her dress was much too nice to be just for everyday wear, and her sandals were embroidered with delicate daisies. She was the prettiest thing I had ever seen. I wanted to tell her so, but my tongue stuck to my throat.

"What are you all dressed up for?" said my mouth when my words finally decided to work.

She frowned a little. "These are my play clothes."

I didn't really understand. I wore the same clothes for just about everything, with the exception of church.

"I like your dress," she told me, her voice thoughtful, when I didn't speak.

I stood up, a little indignant. "This is not a dress, you hear?" I pulled my jersey up from my knees to my belly button, revealing a pair of cut off shorts. "This is a Pedro Martinez Jersey. He's the best, you know."

"The best what?" She looked at me innocently.

"The best baseball player. Maybe ever. I saw him play in real life at Fenway Park. Don't you know anything?" I was a bit exasperated.

"I know a lot of things," she told me softly. "Right now, I am reading a book about the Periodic Table of Elements."

It was my turn to stare blankly. I deflected, "Do you live here?"

"Yes."

"Do you got a lot of brothers and sisters?"

"No, it's just me," she answered.

"You mean that this big place is just for you?!"

"Well, my mother and my father live here, too," she explained, kindly. She was far more patient than most children my age. "Do you want to come see my room?"

I peeked into the bathroom. Pops was elbow deep under the sink. "Okay."

She led me down the hallway, pushing open the door to an enormous room, covered in a soft white carpet. I looked down at my feet, fully aware of my filth for the first time.

"Come on in," she called eagerly, hopping up onto the canopied queen sized bed in the center of her room. I felt a momentarily shy as I climbed up behind her.

"Is that your favorite book?"

I realized I was still clinging to my tattered copy of _The Trumpet of the Swan. _"Yes. And I can read it, you know." The words slipped out faster than I could reign in. Perhaps I felt the need to upstage her, after her comment about reading that book with those fancy words. "I'll show you."

Perhaps I was merely trying to impress her.

I picked up the book, slowly paging back to the beginning. She looked at me, her eyes wide and eager. I cleared my throat, looking at all the printed symbols swimming across the page. "Sam was walking back from the woods to find his father," I said a bit haltingly. "He had just seen a trumpeter swan's nest with the mother sitting on top of the eggs, and she was about to lay another one."

I continued on like this through the first two chapters of the book, using the sporadic pictures and my keen memory of the story for clues, my voice becoming more and more confident as I fabricated my version of the story. I know now that she must have known immediately that I was not reading, but she never said a word, never once tried to correct me. She listened intently without interrupting once, as if she were hanging onto my every word.

"Jane! There you are!" Pops pushed open the door to the little girl's room. "Now come on and get out of there."

"Yes, sir," I mumbled, scrambling from the bed.

"Wait, you needn't hurry out." A woman appeared in the doorway. She wore a pair of old jeans and a painter's smock, but her eyes were intense and commanding. "Perhaps we should arrange a play date for the girls? They certainly seem to have enjoyed their time together."

"Ma'am, you don't need to do that," Pops scratched the back of his head. I tugged at his belt loop. He swatted my hand away. "We'll get outta your hair. Thanks for helping me find my kid."

"No, no, I insist. Maura goes to private school, and many of her classmates live too far away to make for easy friendships. I wouldn't like to push away this opportunity for interaction with same age peers," the woman explained to him.

He shrugged. "Alright, here's our number," Pops scribbled it down at the bottom of her receipt. "I got another job out this way on Friday – I can drop her off then?"

"That would be most lovely," the woman smiled. I caught Maura's eyes and I felt something I had never felt before.

I still feel that same way when I look at her. I must've looked at her millions of times over the years, catching a thousand phases of her smile. I'm looking at her like that right now, as she continues to twist her finger inside the hole of my shirt.

We never talk about these things.

"So how about a grand tour of the place?" She pulls away, leaving my bones a little achy. I'm not a touchy person, not really, but with Maura I can never seem to get enough.

"Well, uh," I gesture to the disaster zone around me - stacked boxes, piles of unfolded clothes, more snack wrappers than I remember eating. "This is really it. Sorry it's a shit hole. I wasn't expecting anyone."

She steps up beside the bed, holding up my holster and badge. "Impressive, Officer."

I hook my thumbs into my belt loops, biting back a grin. "Thanks. I like it – working at the station. And one step closer to becoming a detective, you know."

She hops up onto my bed, curling herself amongst the unmade sheets without a second thought. As I join her, I realize just how lonely I've been.

"Stay," I beg her. I scoot closer. Our legs brush.

"Come to dinner at my mother's. You know she adores you."

I can't fathom what Constance Isles sees in me – I'm practically a nobody, a natural born klutz, and not nearly cultured to her standards. I suppose I can be glad that she's so open-minded, but I always feel like I'm walking on eggshells. One day she'll be sure to look at me and say, _what in the hell was I even thinking?_

"I'm hardly dressed for the occasion." I find another hole in the armpit of my jersey. "I gotta finish unpacking this dump anyway. But you're coming here the minute you're on spring break, right?"

"Promise." She presses a kiss to my cheek before rising from the bed. It's brief. It's unintentional.

I lie achingly still until my stomach settles.


	2. Chapter 2

I listen to Beyoncé when I am need of extraneous motivation. I crank the volume to the loudest setting as I tackle the mountains of boxes strewn around the place, determined to sort through this mess and make this place a presentable abode. I'm digging through a bin of kitchen appliances Ma insisted on buying me when a Nike shoebox falls on my head. The lid shifts off, and I'm covered in a fluttering shower of flimsy paper.

Maura's France letters.

The music is suddenly too loud. I sift through the pile of papers, easily finding the one I'm looking for. It's her first letter, written on some kind of pale pinkish stationary. I carefully open it, because it's near ready to tear at the folded crease.

My stomach still gets a little knotted when I think about the day she told me she'd be living in a goddamn different continent for four years.

We were at her place. I was on the carpet, trying to get her newest pet (an African spurred tortoise, of all things) to poke his head out his shell and get a proper look at him. It was an exhausting endeavor that I was quickly tiring of. I didn't understand how Maura was supposed stay interested in the thing for the next fifty or so odd years that she claimed it could live for.

She was lying across her bed, her eyes darting between her two open magazines – _Teen Vogue _and _The New England Journal of Medicine._

"Come on, little guy." I coaxed him with a piece of lettuce. He was a tiny little thing, small enough to fit in the palm of my hand, though Maura had informed me that he would grow to weigh over one hundred pounds. Still, he remained tucked inside his shell. I could barely even see his little nose.

Maura peeked up from her dual readings. "Just wait one minute." She climbed off the bed, giving me an elusive smile. The onset of my teenage years had come with a growth spurt. I towered nearly two heads above Maura, looking awkward and gangly. She remained prim and petite, housing her brilliant mind behind the illusion of a child.

She reappeared momentarily, holding a plate of sliced strawberries. "He likes these best. Don't you, Bass?" She nudged a slice toward him, and sure enough, he emerged, poking his fat little tongue out of his toothless mouth. The whole process was more endearing to watch than I liked to admit.

"He is a pretty cute turtle."

"Tortoise, Jane."

We watched him, silent for a moment, and I sensed the gravity in her words before she spoke them.

"I've got something to tell you."

Bass made a little squeaking noise. I didn't know that tortoises could make any sound at all.

"I've been accepted to a boarding school in France – my mother's alma mater."

I swallowed, waiting for Bass to make that noise again.

"I start this fall."

Silence.

"Well, aren't you going to say something?" I looked up, surprised to see her eyes watering in the corners.

"What am I supposed to say? That I don't want you to go? It isn't going to make a difference, so I might as well just say I hope that you're happy," I huffed out, biting my tongue hard to barricade the tears.

"You're mad…" Maura muttered softly.

"I don't know what I am, Maura!" I snapped back. "You didn't give me enough time to react to this yet."

She inhaled a quaky breath, though her cheeks were soaked with tears within moments. "I'm sorry."

I scooted up next to her, letting her cry into my shoulder. "It just sucks, you know? It's never easy for us. We live in different parts of town, we already don't go to the same school, we're lucky if we get to see each other once a week sometimes. High school was just supposed to be different - I've been saving up for a car when I finally turn sixteen, and we were supposed to be able to see each other more. And now...this."

"I know," she murmured, her voice a little clogged. "I'll be back for the summers. And...there is always the possibility of BCU."

I hadn't ever been that kid who dreamed about going to college. No one in my family ever had, so it wasn't instilled in my mind that I should have it as a goal. Maura, however, had been going on and on about Boston Cambridge University - both her father's and her grandfather's alma mater - for as long as I could remember. I still didn't know that much about the school - or about college in general - but I did know that I was one of the best schools in the country. And since Maura was aiming to get in, I had adopted it as a dream of mine, too. Though I was no Maura Isles, I was bright and quick-witted. And I was young and hopeful, especially if it meant ending up where Maura did.

I read through her first letter now, flooded with familiarity.

_Dear Jane,_

_Bonjour! I know I promised not to riddle these letters with obscure French references, but I do hope a simple greeting will not cause you to roll your eyes – though I find it quite endearing when you do so. I'm imagining those dramatic facial expressions of yours all too well as I write this._

_Thus far, France is lovely – the school is gorgeous, my classes are challenging and stimulating, and the students here are kind and courteous. None of them are you, however. I know that we have always attended separate schools, but having an ocean between us now feels especially isolating. It never bothered me before to have nothing but polite acquaintances in my classes, since I always had you. I suppose I'm just coping poorly to the thought of being lonely._

_I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. I could fill pages upon pages with that phrase, and it still would not be enough to emphasize it. There are 256 days until I see you again – I will do my best to enjoy each of them, but I fear not a one will go by without me thinking of you. I know that, perhaps, warranted another eye roll, but you mean a great deal to me. France is an extraordinary opportunity, but being your friend is something I have grown to deeply cherish. I hope to hear from you soon. _

_Love, _

_Maura_

She came back that summer, nearly five inches taller and curvy in unfamiliar places. Looking at her made me even dizzier than it did before.

It's all a lot to think about - much more than I thought I would be overwhelmed with tonight. I fall back against the hardwood floor, Beyoncé still ringing in my ears. I'm thankful I didn't turn down the volume; it's a good way to drown out my thoughts.

XXX

I am watching _The Notebook. _But only because it is on TV. And because the remote is across the room, and I'm a lazy asshole. It's been only three days since I unpacked the whole place, and it already looks like category five hurricane tore through the place.

_"Would you stop thinking about what everyone wants! Stop thinking about what I want, what he wants, what your parents want. What do you want?"_ A bearded Ryan Gosling yells from the TV.

I pry open an Oreo, licking the icing from the center, slowly, a bit absentmindedly, because it's been a good half hour since my eyes have darted toward the remote.

The vibration of my phone startles me. I drop my Oreo on my stomach and dig my phone out of the crease between the cushions, my voice a bit goopy as I swallow my mouthful of icing. "Hey, Maur. Everything okay?" It's loud on her end. I hear some kind of techno music blaring in the background.

"I miss you." Her words are a bit blurry. "I wish you were here."

"Big party tonight, huh?" I wrap the hem of my shirt around my finger.

She makes a small noise, then says something I can't make out. The phone sounds far away from her mouth.

"Maura? You still there?"

"Um, hey," an unfamiliar voice picks up the conversation. I rise from the couch immediately, the bag of Oreos spilling across the floor.

"Who the hell are you? And where is Maura?" I find a sock on the ground, tugging it violently onto my foot. A few feet away, I find another.

"Hey, hey, calm down, mate," he says, his words thick with some sort of accent. "I'm just a friend. Maura's in pretty bad shape right now, and she keeps asking for Jane, which I assume is you, and -"

"Tell me where you are." I shove my feet into my boots. "I'll be there in fifteen."

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><p><em>AN: This might end up being longer than three chapters..._


	3. Chapter 3

A rank odor assaults me as I enter the frat house, a mixture of sweat, mildew, and an old stench of vomit. The air is thick, warm with too many bodies. I try not to gag as I step over the threshold.

"Hey, gorgeous, you're not here by yourself, are you?" I swivel my head to see a kid in a cut-off tee grinning stupidly at me. He must be severely inebriated, because I'm a pathetic sight to look at. My hair is an unmanageable mane, and I'm wearing my oldest pair of sweats, and - you guessed it - that damn Red Sox jersey.

I ignore his remarks. "Do you know where Maura Isles is?"

"Who?"

My throat clicks in irritation. I shove past him, entering a damp clump of barely dressed sorority girls, making a beeline for the staircase. I get hit on three more times on my way upstairs - two lumbering boys, and a small girl with spiky hair who makes me do a double take.

I find Maura in the room at the end of the hall, sitting on the edge of futon with her face cradled in her hands. A boy – most likely the one from the phone - hovers near her, and I know I should be appreciative but instead I'm riddled with irritation. I nod, and though I say nothing, my eyes must be particularly venomous because he leaves the room without a word.

"Maura," I speak gently, sitting down beside her. My hip slides up against hers.

She peeks up from her fingers, smiling dopily. Her eyes are glossy and tinged red. "You came."

"'Course I did, babe." I reach for her hand. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"I came to a party," she nods her head. Her voice is deliberate as she focuses to pronounce each word. She's adorable in a sad sort of way. I tug her closer.

"I see you came to a party," I say, because it's instinct to talk to drunk people as if they're toddlers. "Did you have a nice time?"

"Mostly," she talks into my shoulder, her breath coming out in warm little huffs. She shifts her head, and her lips clumsily brush against my collarbone. My head goes a bit dizzy, and I feel a wave of heat shoot down straight to my toes. "I missed you, though."

"I'm here now." Her body is so incredibly close to mine, and my insides are doing things that I try my best not to think about. "You want to tell me what happened tonight?"

"I saw Garrett today," she finally says, her voice more solemn than before. My throat burns a little as I swallow my own words, because even just hearing his name gets me riled up. Maura dated Garrett her first two years of college. It was her first real relationship - not that she hadn't always been the recipient of male affection – but he was the first one that Maura really reciprocated as well. He was always arrogant and cocky, and I tried and tried to see what Maura saw in him. Maybe it was because I've always been too protective of her. She's got a brilliant mind, and she's prettier than words can describe, but she's shy with new people, awkward in social situations, and I know she worries about being alone. I get scared sometimes that she's going to compromise herself.

She continues, "I had just finished my biology midterm, and I felt quite confident about my performance, so naturally I was feeling pretty good about myself – spring break right around the corner, getting to see you…" she pauses briefly, looking less distressed as she stops to smile, but it doesn't last long. "And then I saw him. He had this girl pushed up against the side of the building, very enthusiastically making out with her. She was very pretty. I…I looked at her for too long - dark hair, olive skin, so tiny I could have fit my hands around her waist…"

My jaw hurts because I've got it clenched so hard, but I somehow keep my words tucked behind my tongue.

"I don't know why I still care," Maura admits, her voice a little small as it squeaks out. "He really never did treat me the best, but it's still hard to see him with someone else. What does she have that I don't? I know she's prettier, probably a more natural conversationalist. She probably doesn't ramble off irrelevant facts when she's nervous. I'm certain she –"

"Stop." My voice is sharp, commanding. Her mouth closes shut, startled into silence. I want to kiss her right now. I want to kiss the doubt right out of her. I want to tell her she's perfect, that she's gorgeous, that I love every single goofy thing about her. I want to breathe the words straight into her, to press them against her skin. I want to kiss her, because it will tell her so much more than a string of useless words that I'm certain she won't believe.

But I don't. I don't, because she's drunk, because she's vulnerable, because if I'm going to kiss her, I want it to be because I'm certain she wants it, too. I get scared sometimes, about how much I love her. I love her too much - too much to risk losing her.

"I'm sorry," she sighs after a moment. Her eyes are a little teary. When she opens her mouth, I think she's about to cry, but she hiccups instead.

"Don't be. I just want you to be okay." My voice is a little hoarse. I move away from her, because my chest is throbbing as I try to talk myself back down into sanity. "You ready to go home?"

She nods, and I help her to her feet, guiding her out to the front lawn. She gulps in a few breaths before I steer her toward my car. She huddles against the passenger seat, looking a little dopey as her eyes flutter shut. She's asleep within seconds, even though it takes less than three minutes to drive to her dorm. I park, taking in a painful breath that betrays me as it twists into a sob. I cry into my fist for a good minute before I regain my composure.

I don't want to wake her, but there's no way I can get her out of the car without rousing her. She mumbles a few incoherent words as I rest her weight against my hip, leading her up the stairs.

"Maur, your keys?" I help prop her body upright as we reach the door.

"Oh..." she fumbles in her purse, her face a bit pale. Her hand closes inside of her purse, but instead of pulling out her key, she looks up at me with wild eyes before crouching over and vomiting loudly on top of my shoes. She heaves for a moment before catching her breath and then lifting her hand out of her purse. "Found it."

I kick off my boots, leaving them behind a bush by the entrance as Maura manages to open the door. Her suite is on the first floor, so it's not a far trip, thank God, because she's on her hands and knees in front of the toilet almost as soon as we enter. I sit out on the couch, taking in a few gulps of air, anxiously drawing circles with my socked toes against the carpet.

I'm getting a little sleepy when I realize Maura's been quiet for too long. I knock gently on the bathroom door, prying it open slowly when I don't get a response. She's propped up against the toilet, her long hair spilling inside of it, fast asleep against the rim.

"Oh, Maura..." I crouch down beside her, nudging her awake.

"No..." she grumbles sleepily.

"Babe, you have to get up...we have to get you showered..." I help her to her feet, her hair dripping miserably. She perks up a little, pushing her hair away from her face. "Do you think you can shower?"

She nods, looking apologetic. I slip out of the bathroom, not knowing if I should laugh or cry again, though I'm sure I'll be taunting her with this story for years to come.

I say a little prayer of thanks when I hear the shower patter on. Barely any time has elapsed, however, when I hear her call my name.

I step back into the bathroom. "Maur?"

"Jane..." her voice is muffled through the stream of water. "Come here."

"I'm here."

"No. Come here." The shower curtain shuffles just a little. I step cautiously toward it as she pries it open. "I'm a mess."

And there she is, sitting on the floor of the shower, fully clothed as the water pounds her. "My shirt needed washed, so I thought I could kill two birds with one stone. It maybe wasn't my brightest idea."

I collapse into a fit of laughter, gripping the side of the tub for support. She tugs on my sleeve, and I tumble over the edge, falling into the rush of water. My sides hurt as my laughter subsides, and I turned to give Maura a dripping grin.

"I'm sorry I threw up on your shoes," she mutters after moment.

"I needed new ones anyway." I reach for her hand, giving it a squeeze. Every time I think that I have grown to love her to my full capacity, something wells in my heart and I love her more than I could ever imagine. I've seen it all - her best, her worst, all the insignificant moments in between. There's not a minute of my life I can imagine mattering without her. There's so many things we could say right now, so many things I wish I could, but I just end up nuzzling up beside her and sitting there with her until the water runs cold.

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><p><em>AN: This is actually based on a true story. Don't ask...lawl. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There will be more to come soon, I hope :)_


	4. Chapter 4

I wake up with Maura cocooned to my side, her small body fitting snugly into the curve of mine. I like sleeping over at her dorm more than her house because here in her twin-sized bed, there's no choice but to cuddle. There's something nice about waking up tangled in her warmth, feeling her right next to me, even though I know it's foolish of me to crave this so much.

I wonder a lot what things would've been like if I went to BCU. When Maura was in France, it was always a topic of conversation. She had it all planned out – what dorms we would live in all four years here, what classes would intersect with our chosen majors of biology and criminal justice. She even started speculating what clubs and activities would be best for us to join. But I think the best part of it all would've just been us being in the same place at the same time. I think about it sometimes and feel a small ache of longing.

My spring semester of my junior year in high school, I got into the habit of checking the mail immediately when I got home from school, rifling through the stacks of letters to intercept any word from BCU before anyone in my family did. It was easy enough – Tommy and Frankie never got much mail anyway so they never bothered to check, and Ma almost always worked late down at her job at the bakery down the street. She and Pops had hit a rough patch when I first started high school and had gotten divorced not soon after, so Ma was always struggling to make ends meet.

I remember getting that letter – it was in a big envelope, stuffed so full that even the weight of it felt nice in my grasp. I knew before I opened it that I had gotten in. I brought it up to my room, just holding it for a while, admiring the fancy crest up in the corner. I opened it sometime later, just barely glancing at the congratulatory note before filing through the papers to find the scholarships I had been offered. I knew at once it wasn't enough. Even with financial aid, Ma would be paying an arm and a leg to get me through, and I knew that even if I got a job it would do little to help me pay for the tuition, room and board, and meal plan. Just looking at the numbers made me feel sick.

I took a good look at that acceptance letter, printed on thick, beautiful parchment, and then I crept out to the backyard took a match to the whole thing. I watched the ashes flake to the dirt and then ground them in with the toe of my shoe until there was no trace except a lingering smoky smell.

I never told anyone that I got in. It was just better that way, because Ma would've gone to any length to make sure I got to go, and Maura would've no doubt tried to convince me to let her family offer me some sort of loan. I didn't want to be some charity case, and I didn't want Ma to feel obligated to fork out that kind of money, especially when there were other options. After all, it had always been more of Maura's dream than mine.

Maura stirs, breaking my reverie. She blinks against the brightness of the morning, letting out a tiny yawn.

"How're you feeling?" I prop myself up on my elbow so I can see her face.

She stifles another yawn. "I'm feeling alright. But I think I'd prefer not to move for a little while." She curls into my side. "Do you want to fill me in on the details of last night? My memory is a bit fuzzy."

"You might be better off just forgetting those missing piece." I laugh a bit dryly.

"Oh, dear…."

"Oh, you weren't that bad." I'm not exactly lying, because I'm biased. "You're a cute drunk."

She wrinkles her nose a little, her cheeks tinting pink. Her nose brushes against my shoulder, and she inhales, a series of short, distinct sniffs."

"Are you smelling me?" I wiggle a bit uncomfortably. "I shouldn't stink. I used your shampoo and I'm wearing your clothes." It took some digging, but I found a BCU t-shirt and a pair of short big enough for me to fit into.

"That's exactly it," she tells me. "You don't smell like yourself, and I don't like it."

My brow furrows a little. "What do I usually smell like?"

"I don't know exactly how to describe it – it's very pleasant, a little earthy. It's subtle, but distinctly you.

"Hm." I mutter thoughtfully. I hadn't thought about it much, but I like the way Maura smells to, and not just the familiarity of her shampoo and body cream, but that smell that's resting underneath all that.

"Studies have shown that the pheromones of those we are closest to are often the most attractive. Pheromones can also act as powerful catalysts of sexual attraction." She says it so matter-of-factly, though I cough back a small choke.

"No kidding," I mumble. The phrase barely sounds like words.

She innocently tucks her head back into the crook of my neck. I wonder how long we can continue this tentative dance.

XXX

"Are you sure this is safe?"

"Positive. I've come up here several times already." The rails of the fire escape clank as my foot hits off the top step. I discovered roof access to my apartment just a few das ago, and it's easily become my new favorite place. "Just a little farther...here we are." I take her hand, leading her a safe distance from the edge of the roof. "Nice view, huh?"

"It's lovely," she agrees, peering out at the expansive city.

I lay out a blanket, arranging myself atop the woolen surface. Maura joins me, peeking up at the sky. It's a big smoggy, but we can see the stars flickering beneath the haze. The traffic on the street below provides just enough background noise that the silence isn't bothersome. Maura continues to look at the stars, but I prefer to watch her as she gazes at them. She catches me looking too long, and I blush a little.

"This is perfect," her words break through the silence.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." she whispers, her voice suddenly somber. She twists the hem of her shirt between her fingers, keeping her eyes locked on her hands. "I heard back from the medical schools I applied to."

She pauses for too long.

"And?"

"I got into all three. Johns Hopkins, Stanford, and, well, BCU of course." She smilies just a little, her lips hesitant as they bend, as if she's not sure if this is a moment for celebration or not.

I blow out a long stream of breath. Maryland. California. Why would she choose BCU when she has got opportunities like that? I want to be happy for her. I am happy for her, but it's laced with such melancholy that I can't even congratulate her properly. "Do you know which one you want to yet?"

"They are all such wonderful opportunities," she says softly. "Perhaps Johns Hopkins. You know I've always been very fond of it. And Stanford would be lovely as well. And of course BCU has a rigorous medical program as well. There is a lot to consider."

"That's so great, Maura. Really. I mean, those are some of the top schools in the country. You've got so much to look forward to." I smile properly now.

"Thank you, Jane. It means a lot to me to hear you say that. I just didn't want you to be upset." Her voice peters off near the end of the sentence.

"Of course I'm not upset. Like I said, phenomenal opportunities, every last one of them. You should be proud."

"I am," she lets out a breath of relief. "I just have a lot to consider as I make my decision."

I nod, and we both let the topic settle, holding back the side of it that we don't want to think about. But I imagine it anyway. I imagine the day she'll be leaving come next fall, bags packed as we say our goodbyes at the airport. I imagine it, the happiness I'll feel for her because I want the world for her, but that doesn't mean I won't always ache for her. I imagine her, giving me that final teary goodbye, whispering promises to write, promises that she'll be home before we know it. But I'll be thinking about Maryland, or California, and the opportunities she'll have, and the people she'll meet, and though she won't mean it to happen, I'll just get smaller and smaller, because I was never meant to keep up with her world anyway. But then, in a moment of frantic passion, I'll kiss her. I'll tug her so closer to me, memorizing the warmth of her body. I'll kiss her, because I've meant to for so long, and I'll find the courage to do it when I fear I will no longer have a chance.

And suddenly, I don't want to wait. I don't want to wait for that day in the airport, spurred by desperation, losing her the moment I've finally mustered my courage. So I reach for her chin, tilting her face toward mine, and I kiss her now.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Sorry it's a little short, but the next chapter is going to have a bit of a different tone so I wanted to make it its own thing. I hope you enjoy! Thanks so much for all the great feedback :)_

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><p>It's so fast and so brief that I'm not even sure it has happened. I pull away, my heart beating furiously.<p>

"I—" Maura stops my words immediately, kissing me much more throughly than I kissed her, a tangle of teeth and tongues. I wish my head would stop spinning, because it's going so fast I'm not sure I'll remember it when she pulls away. I try to concentrate on the feel of her lips, the taste of her, but I'm getting too dizzy trying to take it all in.

We pull away for air, but only momentarily. There's a franticness radiating between us - her fingers twine roughly in my hair, my lips hungrily tug against hers. I'm afraid if we stop, I'll try to speak again, and this moment is too delicate to be spoiled by words.

My elbow begins to ache from propping myself up against the concrete roof. I shift, my lips clumsily brushing against her chin. I rub my arm, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the roof isn't an ideal place if we're in this for the long haul, and, God, I don't want the end to be anywhere in sight.

"Let's go back inside."

Maura nods, her breath a little ragged. I stumble down from the roof, my arms shaking with pent up energy and my mind tumbling with rush of thoughts and tangled emotions. I make it down before her, waiting as she climbs in through the window. I sit on the bed, looking at her, my stomach flopping with both excitement and anxiety as I realize I'm looking at her in an entirely different way. So much has changed in just seconds. She joins me on the bed, a little bit of hesitancy edging between us as we try to pick up where we had left off.

I kiss the side of her jaw. "What's the most comfortable—

"Here, if I—" She shifts her weight, capturing my lips momentarily.

I pull away, my words muffling into her cheek. "This should—"

"There."

Maura settles back against the pillows, and I hover over her, straddled over one of her legs. I find her lips again, my nose knocking against hers. I bite back a laugh, fighting my natural awkwardness. "My hands..." I fumble, moving one from her face and the other dancing awkwardly along the length of her side.

"Here, I think that..." Her words peter off as I move my hand down to her waist. Her shirt has bunched up around her torso, exposing a band of soft skin. I touch it gently. "Oh!"

I retract my hand immediately. "Oh my God. Did I hurt you?"

"No, no, no," she answers quickly. "Quite the opposite. Please, do it again."

I move my hands slowly back toward the skin of her belly, listening to each little moan escape from her lips. I push her shirt up a little higher, and she moves her knee, brushing it up between my thighs. I make a noise I didn't even know I was capable of producing, my limbs giving out beneath me as I slump against her. She moves her knee again. I let out a small whimper, losing all capabilities of coherent thought as she continues to slide it back and forth. The friction is intoxicating.

"Stop," I manage to hiss. My body hates me immediately as I force out the words. I take in a few quaky breaths, trying to ground myself as I take a fistful of sheets in my free hand.

"I thought you liked it." There's a hint of hurt in her words. She takes a strand of my hair, curling it around her finger, watching it slowly uncoil.

"I did. I do," I promise her. I kiss her quickly, assuaging her uncertainties. "It's just...we need to talk." My mind is swimming. I can't rein in the words any longer.

She pulls away just enough to see my face. "What is there to talk about?"

"This. All of this." I move my hand away from her belly, waving it around wildly. I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. I've thought about this so many times, played out so many scenarios in my mind, yet I still can't figure out what to say, or how to feel. I have her closer than I ever have, yet I feel like I'm losing her all at the same time.

She breathes out slowly, collecting her thoughts. "I've been wanting this for so long now," she confesses. She kisses me briefly, softly. "And I suspected you might have as well, but I never knew how to approach the matter. But now I know. Now, I know for certain that I haven't been crazy, pining after you for years." She laughs a little, chewing on her lip. I find her hand, lacing my fingers through hers. "It's been so complicated for so many years, as I've considered all of the 'what-ifs." But now, for once, there is no reason to overcomplicate matters. This - you and me - it's finally simple."

"But what about our friendship?" The words spill from my lips, faster than I expected. "What about-" I swallow the words 'medical school,' because they make me ache with doubt. I don't want to sully her optimism. "What does this all mean? Does everything change? Does nothing change? Maur, this is all I've wanted for such a long time now, too, but I don't want to lose what we already have."

She lets out a heavy breath. "Jane, we aren't going to lose anything. Everything is going to change, yet nothing will at all. Now, when I come over to watch a movie, we'll be able to analyze the elements of Martin Scorsese's filmography _and _make out."

I smile a little, letting my apprehension wane. "You're the only one who analyzes. I prefer to watch in silence."

"Well, now you'll have a more effective measure with which to shut me up." She grins up at me, her face so bright and hopeful. She dips her head back in for a kiss before I can utter another word.


	6. Chapter 6

"Morning, sleepy," I murmur against Maura's cheek, before finding the corner of her mouth and kissing it softly.

"Mmm," she breathes out slowly. I can feel her lips bend into a smile.

Her bed is a like cloud; we're floating, tangled in the sheets, hovering dreamily. That's what this past week has – a suspension of time, perfection too sweet to last.

"Do we have to get up?" Maura's voice is thick and sleepy, muffled against my own mouth.

I kiss her for a minute before answering. "We can't miss your mother's exhibition. I have to stay on her good side, especially now." I touch the skin of her stomach, tracing the edge of her underwear. She lets out a tiny rumble in her throat. I'm still in awe sometimes, that she responds this way to my touch.

"My mother simply adores you," Maura reminds me, her hand against my thigh.

There's a pause in the conversation, as hands and lips wander. We're useless at getting anything done now.

"That was before we were…." I stop, suddenly unsure of the word to use. 'Dating' seems inappropriate - it's not as though we're getting to know each other, but at the same time, 'relationship' is a hefty word that warrants some sort of conversation. I'm not quite sure how to label what we are anymore. We haven't talked about any of it – not about what any of this means, not about our future, not even about telling anyone about us.

There's a sharp knock on the door before Maura can respond.

"Maura? Jane? Are you girls awake?" Constance's voice carries through the door.

We shift away from each other. My skin burns, even though I know Constance can't see us. Maura covers her bare legs with the sheet, calling out to her mother. "Yes, we're awake. We'll be down shortly."

She waits until she can no longer hear Constance's feet thudding down the hall before scooting back toward me on the bed. She puts her hand back on my leg and settles her lips onto the edge of my neck. I'm momentarily lightheaded, instinctively pressing my leg flush against her hand. "Maura…" she inches her hand higher. "Maura, Maura, Maura – we can't. Not now. We're already so late."

She pouts, and it's adorable. It takes all I have not to capture her protruding lip with my own.

XXX

"I'm underdressed." I hover in the museum entrance, noticing a few scuff marks on the toes of my boots.

"You look beautiful," Maura assures me, but really she deserves that compliment. She's got on a silky blue dress, dark and dusky, that covers her arms but swoops down beneath her back and shoulder blades. She has pulled her hair up into a loose bun, and a few stray ringlets curl against the bare skin of her back. She's nothing sort of breathtaking. "Come on," she touches the back of my hand with her thumb, subtle and lightly, before retracting it slowly.

Constance's art has always been an enigma to me. Perhaps I'm just uncultured and ignorant when it comes to art, but I fail to see how gluing plastic bottles together qualifies as a masterpiece. I look at the art intently as I stand beside Maura, desperately trying to force some meaning into the abstract piece.

"You both look lovely," Constance's British drawl is distinctive as she steps up behind us. "I'm so glad you could both make it."

"Of course," I smile too widely, glancing back at the water bottle fixture, trying with very little luck to think of something complimentary to say.

"Mother, it's exquisite - it's both witty and full of pathos," Maura answers. If anyone else had said, I'd think they were mocking it, but Maura's voice rings with sincerity. After all, she's nearly incapable of lying.

"Thank you, darling," Constance beams, taking a delicate sip of champagne.

"Constance?" A middle-aged woman and a man I presume to be her husband have approached us. They smile warmly at Constance and Maura, their gazes narrowing slightly as they reach me. I knew I should have worn a dress.

"Bonnie! And Lawrence. How lovely to you both." Constance greets them each with a kiss on the cheek. "You remember my daughter, Maura, do you not?"

Maura steps forward for the obligatory handshake.

"Of course we do," Bonnie answers. "I do believe you grow lovelier each time we see you." Bonnie's eyes twinkle as Maura instantly flushes.

"And this is Jane, one of Maura's dearest friends," Constance draws me back into the group. My stomach settles a bit. "Maura's nearly done with her undergraduate degree at BSU," Constance continues. "She has just been accepted to Johns Hopkins, Stanford, and BSU for medical school. She's leaning toward Johns Hopkins, of course."

My stomach flops, riddled with betrayal. I sweep my gaze toward Maura's face, though she has her eyes locked on her mother. "Mother! Please. Nothing is definite yet."

"There's nothing to be modest about, Maura," Constance chides lightly. I take in a deep breath, feeling as though I might be sick. "You've accomplished a great deal."

"Yes, you've certainly earned the bragging rights," Lawrence speaks for the first time. "Johns Hopkins was my alma mater, you know. Fantastic school. I could arrange an exclusive tour for you if you'd like."

"Thank you," Maura mumbles. She nervously reaches for the loose strands of hair splaying around her neck, curling them around her fingers. "I'll certainly keep your offer in mind."

"Ma'am," a young man has stepped up beside our group. My panic and dread have gone unnoticed amongst the seemingly innocuous conversation. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but our patrons are waiting for your speech."

"Yes, of course. Please excuse me." Constance nods toward both Bonnie and Maurice, who in turn nod toward us.

Once alone, I latch my hand around Maura's wrist, giving it a gentle, yet firm tug. "Come with me."

"Where are we going?" She stumbles along behind me. "My mother's about to speak."

I don't answer, my lips clamped into a thin line. I duck into the coat room, pulling Maura back toward the back wall. I take her chin in my hand, grasping it a bit more roughly than I intended.

"Jane," her voice quivers slightly.

I dip my face toward hers, frantically finding her lips. She's rigid at first, a small, panicked noise erupting from her throat, but she soon melds against my touch. I wedge my knee up between her legs, feeling the material of her dress bunch up around her thighs. I plant my hands firmly against her waist, drawing her hips toward mind.

"Ohhhhh," her voice fades into a satisfying moan. I take one of my hands, moving it up to the base of her neck, letting it tangle in her hair as I draw her face closer to mine.

I know we need to talk, especially now more than ever, but I just want to kiss her, to feel her body against mine, because I'm frightened about how quickly I'm going to lose it all. A tiny sob ripples through me, and my cheeks are damp before I can help it.

"Jane," Maura tugs her swollen lips away from mine. She touches my cheek, her fingers tender. "Jane, please. Talk to me."

I kiss the length of her jaw before another sob racks through me. "You didn't tell me you had decided on Johns Hopkins."

She pulls away, leaving me cold. "I haven't. Jane, you've got to believe me, you'd be the first to know. During our conversations about the matter, my mother has strongly favored Johns Hopkins, but I have yet to make any sort of definite decision about the matter."

"Maura, you can tell me that you'd like to go." The words are hard to force out of my throat. "I'd really just rather you told me, actually. All this - us. I love it." I touch her chin gently. "This is all I've ever wanted. But we can't pretend it's something it's not."

"Of course it's everything we want it to be!" Maura's voice is sharp. Her eyes are welling with tears as well. "I love you, Jane. I love you, and distance isn't going to change any of that. Does it matter if I choose Johns Hopkins, or Stanford, or if I spontaneously decide to go study in Europe? Our friendship has endured distance before, and while I know that being together is ideal, nothing will change if I'm gone. I'll write, I'll visit - and we'll always pick up just where we have left off. I promise you, Jane, whatever my decision may be, you will not lose me."

But she doesn't understand. She doesn't understand what is like to always been the one left waiting."You should head back out...I need some time. Some time alone. Some time to think." My voice is quiet.

She swallows audibly, looking at me with a gaze so heartbreaking that my insides hurt. For a moment, I think she's going to protest. A part of me wishes she would.


End file.
